In a meadow where moonbeams tenderly gleam,
A thorn bird was grieving the death of her only dream.
Her crimson rose of heart now a bush of thorns,
Prickled by love, left betrayed, broken and forlorn
Feeling like she had no reason left to live,
She had lost it all with nothing more to give.
But one day she saw a wandering troubadour,
Aching to write a song for his love to adore.
He needed a euphony to win his maiden's love,
A melody sung by the angels in the heavens above.
In the meadow under the moon's witnessing gleams,
The thorn bird found a new goal, the brightest of dreams.
She decided to sacrifice herself for a love so pure,
If that was the price to pay for true love, she'd endure.
Moved by this noble plight, she took her flight,
Searching for a thorn tree in the dark eyes of the night.
Her light feathers...